Blood
by Evil Shall Giggle
Summary: A near fatal accident makes a temporary Jedi out of a local farmer's daughter, but when the midichlorians from a stranger's donated blood decide they aren't quite ready to die, things start to go very wrong for their host. PreKotOR
1. Prologue

I have never been considered pretty. I was born with blonde hair, but my mother says it had turned brown by the time I was two. My freckled nose is too small for my face, and I have an overly large forehead. My eyes, I suppose, are my only remotely attractive feature—clear, almost incandescent blue stones set into a totally ordinary face, but they are nearly blind without my contacts. I am tall, with a large frame, but I am scrawny.

I would have been much happier with myself if I had some talent, _something_, to set me apart from the others in the village. Perhaps if I'd been born Force-sensitive.

The sky is clear today, as usual, and of Dantooine's two large moons, only a slim crescent of one is visible. The fair weather mocks me as I walk along through the long grasses towards my home.

I shift the handle of the bucket in my hand, which aches under the concentrated weight of the water. We are farmers, my family and I, but though the soil here is fertile, the lack of rain makes growing crops difficult. Irrigation systems are expensive, and we are poor, so until we can save enough for one, my young sister and I make many trips each day to the nearby stream. She trots along beside me, her small bucket nearly weightless, and she is as energetic as ever, golden curls bouncing as she skips. She sings a simple rhyme as she goes.

"Emelle," I say, and she turns at the sound of her name, "slow down. You'll spill the water."

She giggles, showing a half a mouthful of tiny teeth, and swings her bucket around, forcing me to duck out of the way. My own pail flies from my hand, dumping all its contents onto a small shrub. I groan and pull at my hair in anger.

"Em!" I shout, reaching out to maul her, but she hops nimbly out of the way, laughing giddily. When I make another grab at her, she turns and runs as fast as her four-year-old feet will carry her over the remaining distance to the house. I turn, still seething, and head back to the stream to refill my bucket.

* * *

Hoisting the dripping metal container off the ground, I start on my way back home. In the distance, I can hear the whine of a landspeeder. Listening—for lack of anything else to do—I am able to discern that it is coming toward me. If it is someone I know, they might be willing to give me a ride. I slow my pace hopefully as it draws nearer. 

It shoots out around a corner of a bluff not far from where I'm walking, and I see the driver is a young, teenaged boy. I don't recognize him, so I hurry my steps a bit to get out of his way, but I stop when I hear him yelling something at me. I turn to see what he's saying; I can't make it out over the noise of the engine.

"What?" I call to him, but he doesn't seem to be paying anymore attention to me. His eyes are squeezed closed, as if in concentration on something, and the speeder is heading straight at me. Something invisible pushes me slightly to the side, and I stumble, but it's not enough to clear the vehicle's path. It slams into me with a crunch and an explosion of pain, and then my world goes dark.


	2. Chapter 1

When I come to, I feel strange. Bigger, almost, like my mind and body have more space inside them. I notice that there is someone in the room with me before I open my eyes, but the actual timeline of this noticing is not noted. Lifting my eyelids, I turn my head toward that person.

"Where am I?" I ask. My mind is blank, at the moment. I have no memory of who I am or what I'm doing here, in this sterile white room. I seem to have startled him, for he jumps a little and whips his head up to look at me.

"U-uh," he stammers before getting out a response, "You're in the Jedi Enclave's medical bay." He is a young man, my age, maybe older, maybe younger.

There is an emotion in the room, it echoes out from him like a sound. Guilt.

"What's wrong?" I ask, smiling to make him feel better. Why am I doing that?

"Huh?" he blinks; I've startled him again. "N-nothing." Nervous little fellow, I remark to myself.

"Who are you?" I ask, still smiling faintly, trying to make the question less blunt. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Dennel Fam," he answers, "We haven't really met." Haven't really met? What does that mean?

And then I remember. I remember his face, screaming at me to move. I remember his speeder, out of control and barrelling toward me. I remember dying.

"You killed me," I murmur, feeling remarkably calm about it. He killed me, but I'm alive, aren't I? So is dying not really dying? Does everyone wake up a while later? Or am I dead, and this is the afterlife? I didn't think there was one. Is this hell? I should've gone to church…

I see a bandage on his arm. "Are you hurt?" I ask. _What?! _He _killed_ me, and I'm asking him if _he's_ hurt? He glances down, startled once more, at the place where my gaze rests.

"Oh, no," he says, "I gave you a blood transfusion, that's where they put the needle." Who're they? I wonder.

Then: blood transfusion? So I'm not dead after all? That's comforting, I suppose.

"I feel funny," I comment.

"Master Sinta said you might," he tells me. _Master_… he's a Jedi, then. "You might be experiencing some temporary side-effects of the transfer. Because I'm Force-sensitive and all. We didn't have any other suitable blood to give you, and because I… because I'm responsible for what happened, I thought I should give you mine."

"Am I a Jedi now?" I ask hopefully, feeling something akin to happiness flower inside me. It was what I'd always wanted. I'd finally be more special than Emelle, who was already so beautiful, and the other kids in town would respect me.

"No," he says, instantly killing my hopes. "But you're probably going through temporary Force-sensitivity from my blood in your body. The midichlorians will die soon, and you'll be back to normal by the end of the week." As though it's a good thing. "Master Sinta says not to worry. It feels a little weird now, but just remember it'll be gone soon."

I must have been in shock before, because suddenly I begin to cry. "Where's my family?" I ask, "Are they here?"

"Your family was here earlier, while you were still unconscious," he says. "But you've been out for nearly two days. They went back home." It hurts illogically to learn that. I guess they care more about getting Emelle fed than being there when I wake up after being in a nearly-fatal accident. I cry harder, rolling over in the bed to face away from the boy—what was his name? Kennel? No, Dennel.

He leaves, I can tell without looking; the room feels empty. I sob harshly and wish for my mother.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I wake up and my mother is there, a sleeping Emelle on her lap, and my father beside them. My father is the first to notice I'm awake.

"Hey, Hara," he says, drawing my mother's attention to me as well. I smile.

"Hara!" my mother rushes to my side and helps me sit up, although in honesty I feel fine. Better than usual, actually, but it's nice to know that she cares about me.

"How are you?" my father asks.

"Fine," I say. Should I tell them about my temporary Jedi-ness? Probably not.

"The Healer says you'll be Force-sensitive for a week or so," my father says. Oh. Internal debate resolved.

"That'll be kind of interesting, right?" my mother speaks up. Emelle stirs and cracks open a blue eye. I shrug.

"I guess." Of course it will be! This will be the best week of my life! I almost want them to leave so I can try using the Force, but to say that would be utterly rude. Now that I'm a Jedi—don't get your hopes up, Hara—I should behave like one.

"They said you can come home any time you want," dad tells me, "but the Jedi Masters also said that if you want to stay here for counselling or support this week, you're welcome to any of the empty padawan chambers."

Counselling? Is that another word for teaching? I hope so. "Can I stay here?"

My parents glance at each other. Mom doesn't trust the Jedi very much, I know. Maybe she'll object. I hold my breath, waiting for a response.

They glance at each other, and something silent is communicated between them, not for my ears. Finally, my father turns to me and says, "You can stay."

My face splits into a smile. "Thank you!"

The padawan quarters are larger than mine and my sister's room at home, but they lack life and individuality. The walls are plain beige, the bed is perfectly made, and there are no windows. I am daunted by the task of keeping this room looking the way it does as I walk into it.

"Once you are settled," says the old Jedi who escorted me here, "come and see me in the courtyard. I will show you around the rest of the Enclave."

"Thank you," I reply, and back as he turns and exits quietly. I set my suitcase—which my parents were kind enough to return home and pack for me—down on the bed, slowly taking my clothes out of it and stuffing them into the dresser. I realize what I am doing and pause, then take all the articles out and fold them properly.

After replacing them gingerly, I leave the room and head for the courtyard, hoping I remember the route. All the halls look the same here, so I rely on my feet to know the way. Thankfully, I end up at the destination, and quickly spot my escort—he never told me his name. I walk towards him, and he smiles from where he is seated on a bench facing the large tree.

When I stand before him, he motions for me to be seated. I obey, beginning to feel eager for teaching.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Fine," I answer automatically. He watches me silently, and it occurs to me that this is not the answer he's looking for. "I feel… strange," I say. "When that boy, the one who… injured me, was in the medbay with me, I knew what he felt." The Jedi nods as though he knows exactly what I'm talking about, and gestures for me to go on. "And I knew when he wasn't in the room anymore. Without looking, I mean."

"Yes, I would have expected that," he comments, nodding again. I am quiet, in my turn, waiting for him to say more. He doesn't.

I try to ask what I wish for. "Will you—will you teach me to use my—my powers?" the words, though I have imagined myself speaking them for years, feel awkward coming from my lips, and I am embarrassed. I flush and drop my gaze.

The old man doesn't laugh, but I suppose he isn't supposed to. I chance a glance up, and see his eyes sparkling. "You'd like me to?"

My breath catches in my throat. He's going to teach me to be a Jedi! I nod vigorously.

"I suppose I could," he says. His voice is kind. He reminds me of my grandfather, always kind and gentle. "For this week, I will be your master." He leans over toward me and says in a conspiratory whisper, "But you really shouldn't tell the other Masters. I am supposed to be your counsellor, to support you and help you."

I grin and bob my head again. "Thanks. I won't tell them."

He breathes out—a mirthful sigh. "Lesson number one: smile with your eyes. Never with your mouth. Technically, we're not supposed to smile at all, but if you smile with your eyes, it is not only easier, more relieving, but Master Vrook won't catch you doing it."

I believe I will like this man. But I still don't know his name.

"Perfect!" he says, and he 'grins'. "You do not know my name." I blink. What? How—? "I am going to think my name, say it in my mind, and you are going to find it out."

"How?" I ask, eager to try, but confused.

"The same way you read that boy's emotions," he tells me, "and the same way you could tell when he had left. Just relax, and listen. No, not with your ears. With your _mind._"

I try. I push out mentally, and suddenly notice that the barrier I'd always encountered is gone. Many times, while I tried to convince myself I was Force-sensitive, I had done exactly the same thing, but each time I'd come up against a fence, of sorts. Now it was gone.

I stretch out towards the Jedi, feeling remarkably free. My eyes slide closed of their own account, but the world isn't dark. I can see the fat tree in the center of the courtyard, the group of younglings sitting with an older woman on the other side of that tree, and the two teenaged boys conversing calmly as they strolled by. I turn my focus to Nemo, and—

My eyes snap open.

"I did it!" I exclaim, beaming at him and laughing in joy. I read his mind! "I didn't even mean to! I was just—"

He holds up a finger, silencing me instantly. "Remember the first lesson," he reminds me gently. I stop laughing immediately, but my smile refuses to leave. I purse my lips in the effort, and catch the amusement radiating from Nemo; but from someone else, I feel disdain. I look over to see who, and in the distraction, the smile bleeds from my thin lips.

It is a girl, perhaps my age, maybe slightly older, sitting on a bench partway around the circle from us. She has dark hair, I can see that from here, but I can tell little else besides the impression that she is very pretty. I snap my eyes away from her, chastised and a little envious.

"Good," Nemo says, seeing my expression fade back into neutral, "but you should control your other emotions as well. I know, you are only here for a week, it does not matter too much. But you said you wished to be trained as a Jedi, did you not? This is an important part."

"Yeah," I say. "Okay." I sneak another look at the girl. She is reading something, legs crossed primly, picturesque in the late afternoon sunlight. "Who is that girl?" I ask quietly.

"Read my mind," Nemo instructs. I reach out again, but because my mind is not as clear as it was the last time, I am clumsy. I accidentally stretch too far and brush up against the girl's consciousness. She starts, and I feel formidable mental barriers slamming down. At first there is startled fear, and then annoyance as she realizes it's just me. She shoves me impatiently away, and I fall over to the left, pushed physically by her mental touch.

Embarrassed, I try again. This time, I'm more careful, giving the girl a wide berth, and slipping awkwardly into Nemo. It is comparable to testing the temperature of a pond, hesitantly sticking a toe in, wary of losing one's balance and tumbling in. The answer to my question floats into my mind. _Padawan Bastila Shan_.

"You are doing well," Nemo says as I retreat back into my own skull and open my eyes. "You learn faster than… well, I suppose you are much older than the Younglings." He leans backwards, stretching out his back. "It is getting late. How would you feel about some supper?"

"Sure," I agree, and we stand up. He leads me through a maze of corridors, down a ramp, and finally, into a large, bustling room. Once there, he shows me the food tables, set up in buffet style and laden with food. It is more prepared food in one place than I have ever seen—and it is all available to me! I am delighted, but checking that, I feel rather shy, and I serve myself modestly.

Nemo then leads me to a table with two vacant neighbouring seats. The first bite, I take carefully and politely, but as I taste it, I realize how hungry I am. I had missed both breakfast and lunch for being either unconscious or too languid to eat. A good part of my dinner is gone within five minutes, as would be the rest of it, if Nemo had not commented mildly, "You are hungry."

I flush sheepishly and nod. "I haven't eaten for a long time," I say, but I make a conscious effort to slow my mouth down.

"That padawan," he begins, "that you asked about earlier—I think it would be a good idea if you stayed away from her. She is… very talented, and the special treatment Vrook gives her has made her arrogant. She would only irritate you, and your control is not strong enough to resist the temptation of arguing with her."

"Alright," I say, making a mental note. I am only here for a week; it couldn't be too hard to avoid her.

Soon, I am finished my food, but Nemo is not. Being well-trained by my parents, I wait for him to finish. As I sit, I look around the room. It is quite large, with many tables, most of which are full. There are no windows on the walls, but there is a large hole in the ceiling, through which a tree stands. Light filters through its leaves, and I wonder if there is only open air above its top. There are no tables directly underneath the ceiling opening, but there are benches. Some are inhabited.

What a beautiful cafeteria.

Finally, Nemo is finished, and we return our dishes to the counter. "Would you like to have one more lesson before you go to bed?" I say I would. "Alright. Follow me."

And we're off again, me trailing half a step behind. This time, though, we do not stay within the Enclave's walls. Within a minute, we are outside, wading through the long grass at a brisk pace, headed towards the small stream. We reach it soon, and he sits down on a large, flat rock, cross-legged, and I follow suit.

"Close your eyes," he says, and I do. "Clear your mind." I do. "Clear your mind," he repeats.

"I have," I reply.

"No, you haven't," he says. "Clear it completely, even of subconscious thoughts." I try. It's harder than it sounds, but after a moment, I feel sure I have it. "Good. Now think of something you'd like to explain to yourself, something you don't understand." I thought of Bastila. "Now, let that be your only thought. Let your mind dwell upon that and only that, but not consciously. Only subconscious."

It is a wonderful feeling, completely peaceful, and my subconscious ponders the puzzle of Padawan Shan without any work on my part. I come up with reasons for her arrogance, what she could be so talented in that the Jedi Masters would spoil her, and even what colour her eyes should be to best suit her hair.

I have no control over where my meditations wander.

It feels like just shortly later when Nemo stirs beside me, but the sky has grown dark, and the kath hounds are no longer barking. It must be late, at least twenty-one o'clock. My legs are stiff as I stand, and my rear hurts something awful as I walk with Nemo back to the Enclave. At the door, he bids me good-night, and we part ways.

I am joyful—I said, "Good night, Master," for the first time.

The walk to the hallway my room faces out onto is short, and once I am safely hidden from the eyes of anyone who might still be awake, I grin widely and do a little happy-dance. _I'm a Jedi, I'm a Jedi!_ Sheepishly, I giggle and try to calm down, remembering today's first lesson.

I remove my contacts and change into my pyjamas, then slip under the covers of the bed.

That was the night I stopped fearing the dark.


	3. Chapter 2

I wake up early the next morning, anticipation instantly filling me. I hop out of bed and pull on my clothes, noting with slight disappointment that they are not the standard tunic worn by other apprentices. I tie my hair back into its ponytail, and bound out of my room, nearly forgetting to close the door behind me.

I head for the main courtyard, and find it just barely tinged by dawn. I settle onto a bench and look around, marvelling at the beauty surrounding me. When I blink, my eyes feel strange. I blink again. What is that? Then I realize I'm not wearing my contacts. But I can see… I rub my eyes, just to be sure. Am I awake? I bite my tongue. Ouch. Well, I guess I'm awake. So why can I see?

When Nemo comes into the courtyard, sometime later, I mention it.

"I don't know," he says, looking mystified. "It could be that the midichlorians are repairing any problems within your body."

I nod. That answer is good enough. The fact that I don't need contacts anymore does not bother me in the least. I revel in my perfect vision.

"Perhaps you should get the Healer to have a look at it," he continues thoughtfully.

"No, it's okay," I say, "I don't mind it. After all," I add, a sinking feeling tightening my stomach, "it'll probably be back to normal by the end of the week, right?"

He nods, then seems to remember something. He takes it out of his pocket and hands it to me—it is a datapad. I touch the screen and it turns on, blue writing appearing across its surface. "I thought you might like to read it," he tells me, "It's something that all our apprentices read, when they first join the Order."

I stared at the small, precise lettering, biting my lip and wondering what to do. I'd never been to school, spending my childhood helping on the farm, ergo I had never learned to read. My face begins to flush in shame, but I pretend I know what is written. Of course, Nemo picks up on my distress immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asks kindly.

"I…" I mutter, "I can't read." He is silent for a moment, probably berating himself, and I begin to regret saying that and making him feel bad. "It's okay," I lie, "I don't really care."

"Never lie," he tells me quietly, "even about small things. If you start, it is far too easy to continue."

I am taken aback by the short lesson. "Oh. Um, yes Master."

There is silence for a moment. Nemo is about to speak, to tell me that he will teach me to read, but never gets the chance, for someone else speaks first.

"Good morning, Nemo," the person says. I look up. It is a young man, tall, with brown hair and deep set eyes. He is very handsome, and when he turns his gaze to me, I flush and look away. "Who is this?" he asks.

"This is Hara," Nemo says, standing. I follow suit. "Hara, this is Master Kavar."

"Nice to meet you," I say, staring at my feet. Kavar laughs good-naturedly at my shyness.

"Do you live around here?" he inquires of me. I nod, and Nemo nudges me. _say, 'Yes, Master',_ he instructs me in my mind. I am slightly startled, but he continues, _He is your senior._

"Yes, Master," I say, chancing a glance up. Kavar is looking at Nemo quizzically.

"She is a Jedi?" he asks.

"She received a blood transfusion from Padawan Fam," Nemo explains, "and is temporarily Force-Sensitive. I offered to give her some basic training during her stay here."

Kavar seems to ponder this. A few seconds later, he addresses me, bending down a little to look me in the eye, "Would you like to learn to fight?"

I am not expecting this, and it takes me longer than usual to respond. When I do, I am enthusiastic. "Yes!" I smile, "Please." I remember myself and try to clear the expression off my face. "Please, Master," I add, and Kavar chuckles again, straightening.

"Have you two eaten?" he asks us both. We tell him we haven't, and all three of us proceed to the dining hall.

I finish eating first, eager to be taught to fight. Will I get to use a lightsaber? I am almost bouncing in my seat as I wait for the two Jedi Masters to finish their breakfast. I notice Kavar watching me with amusement, and I quickly restrain myself, embarrassed.

He strikes me as being a kind man, and definitely young for a Master. I estimate him to be only somewhere between twenty and twenty five.

Finally, they finish eating, and Nemo bids us goodbye. He is no fighter, and will meet me in an hour or two in the central courtyard. After he has left, Kavar leads me to one of the training rooms. He sheds his cloak and picks up two training swords, one of which he hands to me. It is heavy, but lighter than I expected. Experimentally, I raise it and slice the air, and almost drop it.

"Hold it like this," he says, demonstrating. I regard his fingers on the hilt and try to imitate it. "And swing—" he leisurely moves the blade up and to the right, "—like this." I do the same, finding it remarkably easy.

He shows me two other basic swings—which I also quickly accomplish. It is comparable to swinging a laserscythe to take off the tops of our crops in the fall.

"You're good," he comments. I blush shyly, not used to compliments, and especially not from gorgeous Jedi Masters. We spend another twenty minutes or so—I lose track of time—going over basic attacks, blocks and stances, then pause for a breather. I am not truly that tired, just lifting and swinging a stick around isn't that hard, but I don't mind the break.

"Want to try sparring?" he asks. I was not expecting that, but I am interested. Somehow, I've gotten it into my head that I'm such a natural at this that he won't beat me, and I accept. I pick my sword up and hold it the way he taught me, and as he moves to stand opposite me on the training mat, I shift my body into a defensive stance. "We'll go light and slow, alright?" I agree. "First touch wins, and no head-hits."

I make the first attack, launching forward with the most complicated strike he's taught me. He blocks it easily and sidesteps, and waits for me to move again. I try again, to the same result. Irritated, I lash out with a simple back-handed swing, not pulling the strength behind it—he'll block it anyway, why should I bother to hold back?

He does block it, but the force of the two blades colliding knocks my sword from my hand. In one swift movement, Kavar steps in close and sets the cool metal of his weapon against my neck.

"Control yourself," he tells me, calmly, taking the sword off my shoulder and freeing me from my terrorized trance. He could have killed me! Shaking it off with effort, I tell myself, 'Not everyday that you have a Jedi with his sword at your neck, right? It's okay to be a little scared, but don't worry, it's not likely to happen again.' It doesn't really help, and my hands are still shaking when I pick up my sabre from where it lies on the floor. "Try again?" Kavar asks.

"Sure," I say, with more confidence than I feel.

I let him make the first move this time. He moves in, fast, but not so much so that I have no time to react. I block him, and make a counterattack, which he dodges easily. He returns, and I block, stepping back a little instinctively. I expect him to follow through with another attack, but he lowers his weapon.

"You're reacting," he says, shaking his head. "I want to you feel, use the Force, sense what I'm going to do, and move to prevent that before it happens. I tell him I can't, that I can hardly pick up people's thoughts when they practically _hand_ them at me, how can I sense his attacks? "It's easier than reading minds," he tells me, "all you have to do is relax, and let your body move for you." He pauses, thinking, then says, "Wait a moment."

He goes to a small footlocker and takes out a blindfold. "Put this on," he instructs me, and I do, acutely conscious of the dark sweat spots that are visible under my arms as I reach up to tie the cloth. He either doesn't notice them, or he doesn't care, and I am somewhat consoled.

I expect him to hand me my sword, but nothing comes, just more words. "I'm going to swing at you, and I want you to move out of the way. I'm not going to use a weapon, and neither are you. Just avoid my hand." I nod, and wait for him to attack.

His fist contacts my shoulder, startling me. A moment later, he hits my other shoulder. I stand in dread of his next attack, feeling like prey in the night, with my predator hidden just beyond the wall of darkness, about to pounce. I am trembling, terrified.

"Calm down," he says, "I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be afraid—relax."

When he hits my back and I still stay rooted to the spot, he begins to speak quietly. "There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity." I can track him from his voice, and I use it to follow his movements as he circles me slowly. "There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death—" a light tap on the side of my head, I flinch— "there is the Force."

There is silence for a long moment, and I am still trembling, waiting for his next strike. Then, suddenly, "Catch."

Reflexively, my hands snap up and a small ball lands neatly in them. It takes me a moment to realize what's happened, but when I do, I grin proudly. The ball picks itself up and floats away from me.

"If you can catch a ball," Kavar's voice says, "you can dodge my hand, can't you?"

I take this to heart, and I push all thoughts of what is to happen from my mind as it seemed to work well when I had no idea what was going on. To my wonder, I find myself sidestepping and I feel the slight brush of air that his hand makes as it misses me. A second later, I move again, and then again, and again, as his attacks come faster.

After perhaps a minute—time disappears when blindfolded—he hands me my sword. "I will go slowly," he says. "Remember that this is the same thing as what we were just doing. Do not think."

I hold my sword up, ready. His first strike hits my arm, not hard, but it makes me jump. The second one, I sense, and I manage to do a sort of half-block, moving my blade but contacting his with my hand. The third, I block. The next one comes directly after, and I am able to sense and prevent that one too.

Shortly later, I am permitted to remove my blindfold. We spar for a few matches—with him beating me sorely, of course—but I am getting tired, and he can see that. Ten minutes after the first point is scored, we put our swords away and Kavar grabs his cloak, and we head out to meet Nemo. My MasterNemo, I think to myself, smiling a little.

Kavar departs once I am reunited with Nemo, who has a small stack of items beside him on a bench. He hands me the top one, a datapad with writing on it.

"That is the alphabet," he tells me. "If you would like, I will give you a couple lessons on reading and writing." I am infinitely pleased by this: it will be another thing that I can hold over Emelle and the other kids in the district. I bite my lip to stop my smile from spreading over my mouth.

"Thank you," I say, seating myself beside him and looking at the characters on the screen. The next things he hands me are two folded pieces of brown cloth. Curious, I lift them to have a better look, and a padawan tunic and pants fall open before me. I cannot hide my smile this time, and I thank Nemo heartily.

"There is an extra clothing storage closet in the sublevel," he says, "so if they do not fit, we can find you some that do."

He is so kind, I reflect, like granddad, when he was still alive.

Next, I am given a pair of standard leather boots, a belt for my new tunic, and finally, a long brown robe.

"You are too kind, Master," I whisper, running my hands over my cloak.

"I want you to enjoy this week," he tells me, 'smiling', "to make your 'Jedi Experience' as realistic as possible."

"Thank you," I say.

"Now, go try those on," he instructs, and I am happy to obey.

"Yes, Master," I say, still relishing the feel of those words on my tongue. _Master._ I rush to my room, which is nearby, and quickly get out of my everyday wear, kicking my battered shoes off into a corner. To my delight, the tunic, though it is slightly scratchy, fits well. The pants do not reach to my ankles, but when I picture other Jedi in my mind, their pants are tucked inside the boots, so length is not an issue. I have some difficultly with the clasp on the belt, but I manage. The boots are too small for my feet, so, with disappointment, I put my old shoes back on, and slip on my robe. I look around the room for a mirror, but there is none. I sigh softly, but I suppose Jedi are trained not to have vanity.

Carrying my boots, I leave my temporary quarters and go back to Nemo.

"The boots don't fit," I tell him, and he shows me to that storage closet he'd spoken of earlier. We quickly find another pair of boots that fit me well, and I pull them on. They have an interesting feel, I notice as I tuck my pants into them, snugger than my rubber boots at home, but not too tight to hinder movement, and they are soft against my skin.

I leave my shoes there, per Nemo's request, so that I do not have to go upstairs and back down again to put them away. We retrace our steps to the garden near the exterior entrance, where we sit on a bench, tucked away among the huge planters. I can't help but look around at the flora that surrounds us. Tiny white flowers hang down on almost invisible stems, swaying in the slight breeze made by the falling streams of water. Sunlight filters through the stained glass ceiling above us, casting pastel shadows onto leaves and making water glitter. I would stay here forever, I believe, if I could, but Nemo's quiet voice calls me back into the present.

"Do you have that datapad I gave you?" he asks. I freeze: do I? Quickly, I check my pockets. It isn't there; I must have left it in my room. I can picture it lying on my bed, under my old shirt, forgotten.

"I left it in my room," I say guiltily, feeling careless and ungrateful. "Sorry."

"It's alright," he consoles me. What he says next thrills me beyond belief. "We can start that later. For now… what would you say to learning how to control the Force to move physical objects?"

"Yes!" I say, probably a little too loudly for the location.

"I realize it is complicated," he continues, holding up a hand to my outburst, "but as your midichlorians will begin to die soon, now is the only time that this has any chance of working."

I am silenced by that, the reminder that this—all of this—is only for a few more days, and then I will be back to boring, normal Hara. It puts a heavy damper on my excitement, but I try to focus myself on what's happening _now_. So, when Nemo leans over and picks up a fallen flower from the ground and gives it to me, I shove away all those feelings of overhanging dread and I can't stop myself from grinning. I am going to make these hover!

He instructs me to close my eyes, and feel the flower in my hand. I do, concentrating on the subtle mass of the dying foliage lying on my palm.

"Reach down with your mind," he says, "as you would with your hand, and lift it."

This is a little harder than his last instruction. I stretch my consciousness out, as I did yesterday when I was practicing mind reading, but to find something dead is harder than to find something living, I discover. I use my sense of touch to find the flower, and once I have it in my 'grasp', I lift. To my disappointment, my imaginary hand rises without the flower, and I try again. This time, I picture myself holding onto one of the slippery petals, pinching it, and then I lift. It comes with me, but only briefly. I quickly lose my grip and it falls gently back down, in the end doing little more than wobbling. Still, I am overjoyed. This is something that I have pictured myself doing, as I lay awake in bed at night, alone with a sleeping Emelle and my thoughts. I had held a marble in my hand and stared at it, willing it to move, just a tiny bit. I always ended up exhaling harder than usual and trying to convince myself that it was my mind that had moved it, not my breath. Now, no convincing was required. It had actually happened!

I make another attempt and have less success than I had previously. This annoys me a little, and I carelessly grab at it. My 'hand' goes straight through it, into my real, solid hand, and there it seems to tweak a tendon, or something, because I feel something shift and it _hurts._

My eyes snap open with a gasp and I double over, clutching my throbbing appendage. Nemo pulls me back up and pries it out from my protective embrace, slipping his fingers among mine. There is a slight tweak as something moves, and the pain stops. I take a deep, calming breath and look up cautiously to see his reaction.

"Thanks," I say. He is frowning.

"You lost your focus," he reprimands me sternly, "You got angry, and you hurt yourself. Anger is something you must always avoid. Is that clear?"

"I—I'm sorry," I mumble. I'm not sorry, not really. I wasn't angry, just annoyed. Besides, as he said, I hurt myself. That should be enough incentive not to get annoyed again, right? I stare down at the poor dead petals in my palm that I had crushed into pale pink dust.

-

That night, after meditating with Nemo, I lie on my back on my hard bed, watching the ceiling. I mull over the day's events, then begin reciting the alphabet in my head and trying to string them together according to their sounds to spell my name. When I feel confident that I've gotten it right (I think it should go Hara, but I'm not sure about the first a. It doesn't sound like it should) I flop my head to the side, and find myself looking at my contacts which I'd left, forgotten and abandoned, in their case.

I focus on them, reaching with my mind for them, but I can't get a grip. Sighing, I stretch out an arm and pluck one from the clear solution they rest in, holding it between my index finger and thumb in front of my face. Through it, the world is distorted, blurred. My arm that holds it falls back to my side, while the other moves to brush the tender skin below my eyes. How strange was it that I did not need those lenses anymore? And so suddenly? Things just didn't happen like that, especially not to me.

I sigh again and gently place the tiny piece of silaglass with its twin, then I close my eyes and wait for sleep.


	4. Chapter 3

I had a strange dream last night: that is the impression I have when I awake. Of course, I don't remember what it was; I never do. I lie in bed for a few minutes, then push myself up and swing my legs over the side. I prepare myself for the day, delighting in the tunic and robe I have been lent, and leave my rooms.

I stop in the dining room and grab a piece of toast, and then wander the halls for a while, eventually finding myself in that garden in the sublevel. I make for the secluded bench in the center, but it is already occupied. The person sitting on it looks up, and I recognize that boy from the medlab—Dennel. I also recognize him as the boy in the speeder, but I choose not to dwell on that.

I smile at him, but he looks slightly mortified. I suppose he must still be feeling guilty, but there really isn't any reason to. I try to tell him this. "You don't have to feel bad," I explain, "After all, you saved my life. And you made me Force-Sensitive for a week or so, and so far, I'm really enjoying myself here. Cheer up!"

He doesn't seem particularly cheered by my speech, however, and I sit down beside him.

"I'm sorry," he says, not looking at me. "I'm sorry I hit you. It was irresponsible of me to be driving that speeder. I should have known better. I brought shame to my Master and myself. Please, forgive me."

I stare at him. "Of course I forgive you!" I exclaim. "You gave me your blood! That saved my life! If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here." In more ways that one, I add silently, I owe you in more ways than you know.

He doesn't answer, and he doesn't look up. We sit in silence for a long moment, until he stands abruptly, bows, and all but runs away. I watch him go, a little bemused at his behaviour. Really, he shouldn't feel so guilty! I'm very happy here, like this!

I bend over and pick up a fallen leaf, revisiting the basic levitation exercise Nemo and I did two days ago. I focus in on the small piece of plant, but when I try to grasp it, my mind's fingers go right through it. I try again, concentrating as hard as I can, but it is the same result. I make another attempt, and another, but still, there is no response more than a wobble.

I huff in irritation (because if I did not make myself angry, I would remember that now is when my powers were supposed to begin to disappear and then that feeling of overhanging dread would come back) and give up, standing and striding off to the dining room to get something proper to eat. While I stand waiting in line for the buffet tables, I accidentally bump the back of my hand against someone else's, another padawan, probably two or three years younger than me. In my head, I hear "—Alderaanian waffles today! Katin's going love—" and then it goes silent, as the contact between us is broken. I forget to breathe for a moment, and almost drop my tray. The glass of oriunge juice slides to one side, trips over the rim, and falls, shattering on the stone floor.

There is instant action as the young Jedi near me all shuffle out of the way of the flying liquid and shards of glass. I feel myself jump back, but my mind is still mulling over what had just happened. When the glass brings all its pieces together into a pile and the juice lifts itself off the floor and deposits itself in a garbage can, I snap out of the trance.

"Whose was that?" inquires a warm voice with an Echani accent. There is a young woman standing among the group of padawans, shining like a beacon in brilliantly white robes. One of her hands is outstretched, the slender fingers moving in strange patterns. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the glass float into the garbage can, and I realize it was this woman who had cleaned up my juice.

"Mine," I say quietly. She steps a little closer, blue eyes examining me while a kind smile plays about her lips.

"I don't recognize you," she comments. "Are you new here?"

"Uh," I falter. _Yep, I'm new. I'm not really a Jedi though, I'm just dressed like one._ "I'm uh…"

"Atris!" a young man pushes through the dispersing crowd. The Echani Jedi turns at what I can only presume is her name, grinning with recognition at the owner of the voice. He is tall and handsome, with sloppily styled dark hair and shimmering grey eyes. He places a hand on Atris's shoulder, smiling broadly. "Here you are! I've been looking all over for you. I thought you'd have been in the library, but I should've known you'd go straight for food."

She laughs, slapping his hand away. "That is mean," she accuses lightly. "You eat far more than I do." He opens his mouth, as if to protest, but she continues, "And you know it, so do not even try to argue."

He feigns a hurt expression and spots me. "Who's this?"

"I was just helping her clean up some spilt juice," she says. "What's your name?"

"Uh," I am not ready for her question. "H—Hara," I stammer finally.

"Nice to meet you, Hara," she says, bowing politely. "You are new at the Enclave?"

"Um, yes," I say, and am beginning to say more to explain, but she cuts me off.

"We are new here as well," she tells me. "Knight Lyrin and I arrived yesterday from Coruscant. I am to be the new librarian here, and Lyrin is Master Nemo's old apprentice, so when he heard I was coming here, he tagged along."

"Tagged along?" Lyrin echoes, looking slightly miffed.

"You're Master Nemo's apprentice?" I ask, amazed.

"Was," he corrects, "I graduated last year." He playfully jabs an elbow at Atris. "This old lady here graduated _three_ years ago—"

"And yet I'm only one year older than you," she quips, "Is this indicating anything about our intelligences and skill levels? Hm?"

I cannot help but laugh with these two young Jedi. They move on after a little while, and I watch them go with a sort of sense of growing idolism. That girl, she is everything I have always wanted to be: pretty, obviously talented, a Jedi, and with a really good-looking friend!

I sigh and get back in line for the food tables. Once I have sufficiently filled my plate with waffles and dressings for them, I go get another drink, then find myself an empty table to eat. Eating them reminds me of a name, 'Katin', and for a moment, I can't place it. It was what I heard in that padawan's mind. I look around, to see if I can find him in the crowd, but there are too many people, and I didn't get a good enough glimpse of his face to be able to tell him apart from the others.

Trying to figure out what exactly had happened then, I come to the conclusion that he must have accidentally been broadcasting his thoughts, and I just happened to not have enough mental shields to block them. That explained, I finish my breakfast and put my plates away in the washer, then head out for the garden.

I plunk myself down on the grass and watch a group of toddlers receiving meditation lessons. They're cute, and I smile to myself as I observe them. I can just faintly hear the instructor speaking to them, but I can see their reactions to her words well enough. A couple are really focussing, it seems, with their chubby faces screwed up and their eyes squished shut, but most are relaxed-looking. One, I think, is asleep, because he has slumped over sideways onto the shoulder of the girl next to him, who has cracked an eye open to stare at him disapprovingly.

I miss Nemo, I realize as a light breeze stirs my hair. He left yesterday with another Master to settle a land dispute on the other side of the planet—not a long distance, but he had not expected to be back for at least a week. I fiddle with a blade of grass, twisting it around my fingers. Now that he is gone, there is no one to instruct me, and I have little to occupy myself with.

I try again at moving things with my mind, this time the blade of grass I was playing with. I have pulled it up with my real hand, and now hold it on my flat palm. I zero in on it with my mind, picturing reaching out and lifting it, and I manage to get a hold on it. I lift—

And my head feels like it's splitting open. I fold over, fingernails digging into my scalp in some strange attempt to make it stop. Vaguely, I feel arms lifting me, half-carrying and half-dragging me somewhere. I let them, not caring enough to try to stop them. The world is darkening, or maybe it's just that my eyes are closing. Either way, the next thing I know, I am lying in the medical facility.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Your midichlorian levels have gone down," the healer Jedi tells me, "as we expected. The headache that caused you to pass out was most likely triggered by your brain cells readapting to living without them; nothing to worry about."

I smile faintly at him, though it is the last thing I want to do. Well, perhaps not the _last_, but… still. I certainly do not feel like smiling. I am not yet allowed to leave the bed I am lying in—I am to stay here for another hour until they can be sure that the headache episode will not happen again. The little nodes on my forehead itch, but I cannot scratch them.

I am good at doing nothing for extended periods of time, but only when I should be doing something else. Now, when I have nothing to occupy myself with, I find myself restless and bored. Experimentally and a little hesitantly, I listen with my mind, trying to pick up any emotions, but that fence that used to be around my mind is returning. I have to struggle to get past it, but when I do, I can faintly hear the healer's emotions. I sigh sadly and withdraw back into my own head, already tired by the effort the simple exercise.

The machine that the wires attached to my head lead to is beeping. The healer bustles over and taps a button on it, then turns to me.

"Try not to use the Force," he says. "We need your brain to get used to living without it."

I nod. This isn't fair! This could be the last time I'd ever be able to use the Force again! Well, I mused, I could always get myself run over by a speeder again… But then I think of the lumpy scars that remain on my left hip, and the slight twinge of pain when I walk, and I know I won't do that again.

The next day, they tell me that I no longer need to remain here. My powers are gone—I haven't been able to pick up emotions at all—and so I have no place living as a Jedi. They haven't run any midichlorian level tests on me today, but I guess they figure it isn't necessary. It's obvious enough what's happened.

I am back in my old clothes, slowly packing my things to return home. I finish, am tempted to unpack and begin over to make it last longer, because as long as I am here, I am still a Jedi in my mind. Finally, I take one last look around at the rooms and leave. I return my borrowed robes to the closet, walking barefoot, and take my shoes back.

As I head for the exterior exit from the sublevel, I pass through the garden. I turn at the door and return, taking my usual seat in the center. Just one last time, I pluck a flower from a hanging vine and focus in. That fence is there, blocking me, so I can't get my 'hand' close enough. I push against it, slamming my mental body into the incorporeal barrier, but I can make no progress. Then, it is as if I have found a gate. I stumble through the opening, falling toward the flower. It scuttles away as if blown by a non-existent wind, and I chase after it. It flies up into the air, shooting away from me. I turn to my focus onto a vine that hangs in front of me, and I get a similar reaction. It blows back, pressing itself up against the ceramic of the planter.

Suddenly, I feel cold tiles against my face. It would seem that I'd pushed myself off the bench, and when I turn to look at it in surprise at its throwing me off, it too is pushed away. It topples over into the garden, probably crushing a few flowers, as I watch in something bordering on horror.

Oh gods.

Before I really know what I am doing, I am scrambling to my feet and running, bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder. I rush to the exit and flee, sprinting past the Jedi strolling peacefully in the late afternoon sunlight. I bump into a couple, and as contact is made, I get little bursts of their thoughts. _–HEY! YOU B— _is one, and then another _–Shanal will… AH—_

I run for what seems like hours, not truly aware of my surroundings, until my right foot catches on a tree root and I go flying. I land hard, sprawled ungainly on my front, and I lie there, stunned and breathless. I lack the energy or the will to get up.

The fence, I notice, has repaired itself, and I am now enclosed in my own mind again. I feel moisture on the grass that presses against my face, and when I begin to sob, I realize it is my tears. What _was_ that? What had happened?

"Help," I cry weakly, "hel—" I choke, and it comes out like 'hell'. Hell. Did I die back there, with the speeder? Am I actually lying under the ground, stone cold and lifeless? Is this hell? It had all started so well… perhaps I was in heaven before, and now, when I started to become too… too what? Self-important? When I became too self-important, I descended to hell.

No. No. There is no death, isn't there? Isn't that how the Code goes? There is no death, there is the Force. Yes. There is no death. There is no death. I am not dead.

With that somewhat reassuring thought, I push myself to my knees, and then all the way up to my feet. I heave my bag onto my shoulder again, wipe my eyes, take a shuddering but deep breath, and look around to find myself in the landscape. Finding the right direction, I set off for home, for what else is there to do? I could not have lain there forever, however appealing it might have seemed.

It was not far, and I had arrived on the edge of the property within a few minutes. I pause before walking up the front path, feeling that as long as I do not step onto my home's ground, my Jedi adventure would not be over. With a slight sigh, I set my foot onto the cement path, and then the other, and the other, and so on until I am at the door. I key in the code and it opens jerkily, the mechanisms catching and creaking.

"I'm home," I shout as I enter; a customary declaration. "Hello?"

Emelle comes bounding out and launches herself into my arms, just about knocking me over backwards as if she was a giant blond bowling ball. Mom comes in next, followed closely by dad. They are both smiling, and they each embrace me in turn.

"It's good to see you," mom says kindly. "We missed you."

"Hover me, hover me!" Emelle shouts, jumping up and down. I glare at her, wishing I could do as she asked.

"Shut up," I snap and push through their hugs to my room. Once there, I dump my bag onto my side of the bed and begin unpacking, angrily shoving clothes into the dresser. Why did she have to remind me? Was she trying to rub it in?

"Hara!" that is my mother, standing at the door, hands on her hips. "You've been away all week, and that's all the hello we get from you?"

"Yep," I respond shortly, still stuffing my clothes away. I can tell she's not pleased at all with me, and I will probably get extra chores today as my 'reward', but at the moment, I really can't care less. She stands there for another few seconds, then moves away, her footsteps fading away. She leaves a residue in the room of annoyance mingled with concern, and it takes me a moment to recognize it as her feelings. Concern. Immediately, I regret being so rude to her. She loves me, she's worried for me, and all I do is snap at her?

And yet I am too cowardly to chase after her and apologize.

I sink onto my bed and put my face in my hands. I want to go back to the Enclave. I want to be a Jedi again. I want to see Master Nemo and I want to see Atris and I want to be special again. I don't want to do chores, I don't want to plough the fields, and I don't want to pull weeds until my back is so stiff I can hardly move. I'd only been with the Jedi for a week, but _that_ is my life, not this, and I want it back.

I return to the Enclave the next day. Nemo has still not returned from his business on the other side of the planet, but I run into Master Kavar as I enter. With him is Atris's friend, Lyrin.

"Hara," Kavar greets me. I blush instantly, surprised and flattered that he remembers my name.

"Master Kavar," I return, bowing.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"Just visiting," I reply. I raise my eyes and find Lyrin looking at me. I feel out of place and conspicuous in my citizen clothes.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"Good," I say. Should I mention my strange little moments when I see into other peoples' minds? They had been becoming more and more frequent, but what if there was something actually wrong with me? It was better not to know, I decided.

"Have you met Padawan Lyrin?" he steps aside slightly to let the younger man stand face to face with me.

"Um, yes," I say, "Hi."

"Hello," he returns cheerfully. I want to ask him where Atris is, but am too shy.

"Well," Kavar speaks up after a moment of silence, "Lyrin and I have some business to attend to. You can go ahead and do as you wish here, Hara. You know where everything is."

"Thank you," I say, bowing again, "Master Kavar."

They move on and I watch them until they disappear around a corner. With a little sigh, I look around to decide which direction I want to walk in. Finally, I pick the hallway that will take me to the sublevel, and from there I head for the archives. There is no one here that I know, with Nemo gone, except Atris, Dennel, and Bastila, though I don't actually know Bastila and I'd really rather _not_ run into her. Dennel, I don't know well, and I get the distinct impression that he'd prefer not to meet up with me, and Atris is, in truth, little more than an acquaintance.

It is Dennel that I see first. He is walking down the hall, and when he catches sight of me, he ducks his head and his pace picks up almost imperceptibly. As he nears me, my eyesight begins to play tricks on me. I see another hallway, different from the one in front of me, and I see myself. It gets more vivid the closer he comes, until I have both universes before me and somehow I can still process them both. Nevertheless, it is a strange and frightening experience. I want to panic but my feet keep walking in a straight line. I can't remember which is the real corridor and which is the hallucination and I catch my foot on something I thought didn't exist. I stumble but manage to stay standing as one hallway begins to fade.

"Are you alright?" A woman is hurrying toward me, looking concerned. I shake my head to clear it but she takes it as my saying no. "What's wrong?"

"What's going on?" This is another voice, from behind me now. I turn and see an older man with a small twi'lek in tow. Why were all these people coming?

"Uh," I say, blinking several times to clear away the residual odd feeling in my eyes, "Nothing. I'm fine."

"There was a disturbance," says the first woman.

"We felt it as well," says the older man. The little girl nods her agreement silently.

"Nothing's wrong," I assure them, "I'm fine. Maybe it was something else?" Why I don't just tell them what had happened, I'm not sure. A few more Jedi are gathering around me, and I begin to feel very embarrassed. Then, suddenly—

_What's happeni—_

_What's wr—_

_Master Olim? Who is—_

The corridor has multiplied itself again, this time into so many different views I can't count them. The voices, thoughts, I believe, fill my mind to the point of overflowing and my skull feels too small for my brain.

_Isn't that that girl—_

—_that? I want to go bac—_

—_wrong? Is she hurt?_

—_who was here a few—_

I put my hands over my ears uselessly. _Stop it, stop it, stop it! Go away!_ I try to force the others' thoughts away, but they won't leave. And then…

Silence.

I open my eyes cautiously. All the people who'd been standing around me are lying sprawled on the ground. Some are pushing themselves back up with groans, others with surprised looks on their faces. I am very tired, so very tired, as though I'd just run all the way around the farm twice. The world fades into white.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The blinding white of the medbay ceiling is the only thing I see as I open my eyes. It isn't the first time I'd woken up in here, which made me special in an odd sort of way, I guess. I'm rigged up to all sorts of machines, and their high-frequency beeps speed up as my brain stirs into consciousness.

Speaking of my brain, it seems to be going a little crazy at the moment. There is a strange tingly feeling coming from many places all around me, and when I look, I see computers and a medical droid. In the other half of the mini hospital, behind the wall and out of sight, there are two people, both Jedi. Curious as to how I know this and also extremely pleased that my powers have come back, I reach out as Nemo taught me and eventually come in contact with one of them.

I slip inside easily and, surprisingly, undetected. I can almost _see_ the workings of her mind. There are images, little bits of a broken holofilm, and words. There are louder ones, uttered slowly and easy to pick out, but underneath that is a fast-moving stream of incomprehensible comments. I listen closer and find them to be more of instinctive impressions and fragmented ideas than actual coherent thoughts. I dig further, finding memories buried under layers and layers of others.

At long last, the woman notices something strange. I feel it in the change in her thought pattern as she tries to identify it. Her defences are automatically raised, and I pull out hastily and clumsily so as not to get trapped inside. Back in my own mind, I hear a cry of pain from the other room. I must've hurt her with my sloppy withdrawal, and I feel guilty.

A moment later, the two Jedi come out into the main room. They are both women, I see. One is certainly Human—or if she is, there is something very wrong with her eyes. The other is Human, and she's holding her head with one hand. I place her with a name, one I figure I must've found in her head. Lonna… Lonna Vash. She is young, about twenty, and pretty, with dark hair and tan skin. The other one, with the creepy eyes, is older, probably well into her thirties or maybe even early forties.

They come toward me. I am curious and reach out for Creepy Eyes's mind, but I come up against a huge wall, immeasurably tall and extremely strong. It gives me something like an electric shock when I touch it and I jump in surprise, retreating back into my own mind.

"That is quite impolite, you know," she says to me, flicking a switch on one of the machines. The beeping stops. She sounds almost amused, but I look down at my blanketed legs, embarrassed. "My name is Kreia." I lift my gaze hesitantly and find her smiling. "You see? You did not need to spy to learn it." She lifts my chin with a finger. "So. You are Hara, it would seem. What pretty eyes."

She frightens me. It's a new sort of fear, deep-seated as though I have always had it. My insides are turned to ice as I stare into her solid black eyes. There is something extremely _not right_ about her. Not wrong, really. It's a strange impression. It's as though nothing's wrong, but nothing's right either.

Lonna speaks and my attention is drawn from my frozen gut to her voice. "How are you feeling?" she asks kindly. I feel a little strange about her, too, being as I had just been poking about inside her head. However, she doesn't seem to be holding any grudges. Or maybe she doesn't even know it was me, I think hopefully.

"Fine," I reply belatedly, almost having forgotten about her question.

"We called your parents yesterday," she tells me, "They came by earlier and—"

"How are your Force powers?" Kreia interrupts. Lonna looks very faintly annoyed—no. No, she doesn't. I can sense that she's very faintly annoyed. Her face doesn't change.

"They're um, pretty good," I say slowly, not entirely sure myself, "I guess."

Kreia smiles, but Lonna frowns. "They should be gone by now," she says, "Can I take a blood sample?" I nod, though I'm not fond of needles.

"Good," I hear Kreia whisper, so quietly I'm not certain she actually said anything. I feel the distinct urge to be elsewhere.

Lonna pricks my arm with something that feels like an insect's bite, and then plugs the tiny gadget into a machine. It beeps twice and powers up a display screen. She frowns again and taps a few buttons. "I'm not getting a reading," she mutters. "Strange. Recalibrating the matrix… no, still nothing. I'll go get a tech to have a look at it—it's been a while since anyone used this thing." She turns to Kreia. "Will you look after her while I'm gone?"

"Of course," says Kreia and gives Lonna a slight bow as she leaves. Once we are alone in the room, she looks down at me. "I think you're well enough to leave. Do you agree?"

"Um…" I hesitate. "Shouldn't I stay here? I mean, she's going to be coming back in a second with someone to fix that machine, right?"

"Correct," she nods. "But she already has what she needs for her analysis." She plucks the wires off of my face. "Let us go for a walk."

Uncertainly, I nod and push myself up. My breath leaves me in something like a quiet groan at the effort it requires and the soreness that seemed to have soaked into every part of my body. Kreia puts a hand on my back to support me as I waver after sliding off the bed and onto my feet. I feel the same electric shock I felt when I touched her mind and I jerk, throwing myself off balance. She catches me easily and returns me to a proper standing position.

"Are you alright?" she asks, kindly enough.

"Yeah," I say uneasily. I'm still rather afraid of her and I make a huge effort to walk normally so that she'll take her hand off me. Once we're out into the hallway, she steers me left and I follow. My strength is returning surprisingly quickly, and already the vertigo I felt when I stood is gone. Kreia's hand on my back is unnaturally warm, I notice, and I realize she's healing me, lending me her energy. I'm not quite sure what to say about it, not wanting to sound like an idiot if it turned out she wasn't, in fact, doing anything.

"Thank you," I say despite my worries and she gives me a little smile, taking her hand back. I feel cold without it, but the strength she'd given me is still there and I'm no longer having any problems with walking in a straight line.

She takes me outside and out across a small field to where a tree stood beside the river. "Sit," she says, and I do. She follows suit, legs crossed and back straight. "You seem to have some talent for mind-reading. Would you like to practice it?"

"Sure," I agree. I would rather practice levitation and that sort of thing, but mind-reading's pretty cool, too. I can't help grinning. Several weeks ago, I would've been thrilled to do anything related to the Force. Now I'm being picky about telepathy.

"It must be quite an experience for you," Kreia comments and my stomach lurches. She was reading my mind? What else does she know? "It was surface thoughts only." I stare at her. "Do not be so unsettled. You must become used to this if you are to live as a Jedi. You must also learn do similar things to other Jedi."

"I can," I say indignantly. "Master Nemo taught me to."

"Indeed," she replies, a wry smile twisting her lips, "and they notice you, do they not?"

"Lonna didn't," I say before I think.

"And what did you do differently?" she asks, not seeming to care that I had been poking around in the other woman's mind.

"Nothing," I reply.

"Think before you speak, child," she scolds me. "You must have done something different or else she would have noticed you."

"I don't know," I insist, now a little embarrassed. "I was just looking around—with my mind, I mean—and she was there. I just kinda slipped inside. She didn't have any walls or anything."

"Jedi Knight Lonna Vash most certainly has walls around her mind," Kreia says sharply. She sounds surprised and unnerved. "You encountered none?" I shake my head. "Intriguing. And yet you could not pass mine." Her head tilted to the right very slightly and she gazed at me with interest. I squirmed uncomfortably. "Try again," she commanded.

The order surprises me, but I close my eyes and stretch toward her. I flinch automatically as I touch the wall that shocked me last time, but nothing happens. My mental hand goes right through it with the feeling of putting a finger into a bubble and I tumble the rest of the way in. She realizes what's happened instantly and I am suddenly in pain, so much pain—

And then I'm back in my own mind again, breathing hard. Despite my forceful removal, I'm very glad to be out. Being inside her mind was like drowning. I open my eyes slowly, the light making the backs of them throb, and find Kreia standing several paces away.

I scramble to my feet. "I'm sorry—" I begin, but she holds up a hand.

"No," she says slowly, "that was… good. I apologize if I hurt you. It has been… some time since anyone has been inside my mind." She shifts her feet so she's facing me and one corner of her mouth lifts. "It is not something I enjoy." I bite me lip, looking down at the ground. I'm taller than she is, and it makes me feel even more awkward. "Try again. This time, I will resist. If you cannot simply slip through, tell me and do not try. My defences have a reputation of being rather painful."

Nervously, I nod and shut my eyes. I find her easily enough and approach the huge wall before me. My hand passes through it but then another barrier springs up on the other side. I press on it and I go through it as well, figuring she hadn't meant this as not being able to 'simply slip through'. Another wall comes up and I cut through it as if it were simpa butter. At last, I'm inside, and I can tell that she thinks she's stopped me. This is strange, but I can't help being curious as to what her thoughts are like. I step forward, instinctively holding my breath. It feels like standing at the bottom of an ocean, my ears stinging from the pressure and my limbs heavy and slowed. Its layout is similar to Lonna's, with images flickering around like broken holoflicks and words, thoughts, and a river of subconscious impressions underneath everything. Realizing I still need air, I begin to breath, but it is an odd thing, breathing water. It's harder, so much harder, and because of my struggling I breathe faster and faster, just short gasps. When my lungs refuse to expand any more, I slam my throat shut and clench my jaw, my face contorting in fear. Why can't I get out? Where's the exit?

I am forcibly hauled out of the water as my back crashes against something very real and hard. The space behind my forehead sears as though I'd been run through and I pitch forward off the edge of the bluff into the grass, where I lie limply, unable and unwilling to move.

When I can finally manage to lift my head, I see Kreia slumped against the tree, apparently out cold. I managed to croak her name but she doesn't stir. Farther in the distance, though, I can make out a figure running toward us. I have to squint in the bright light, but it's definitely a Jedi; there's a big brown thing waving behind it that's probably a robe.

It's Nemo. I let my head drop again as my neck muscles start to throb too much, but manage to roll halfway onto my back. When he bends over me, I give him a weak smile, my eyes almost closed to shield them from the sun. I feel dopey, as if I was just waking up from sleeping for far longer than normal. He says something, but I can't hear anything. The world is completely silent, not even my own pulse is in my ears.

Then I realize I'm not breathing.

It brings about a sort of panic. I'm not breathing. I'm not breathing! I open my mouth, try to force my lungs open, but nothing happens. _Help! Nemo, help!_ I try to yell at him in my mind and I think he hears it because he flinches as though a ship's engines had fired up noisily nearby. My world is going black, my chest feels like it should've exploded long ago, and dimly I wonder how many times I've fainted in the past week.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

It seems quite odd to me that I don't wake up in the medical bay back at the Enclave. The ceiling in this place isn't white, and neither are the walls. The light is warm and brownish, not cold blue. As I gain control of my eyes, I look around, and find myself to be in the padawan room they'd loaned me for that first week.

When I can move my arms, I push myself into a sitting position, thankfully without pain, and gaze around again, wondering why it doesn't seem odd that I can't feel my legs. I look down at them, try to move one without success, but no panic sets in. It's as if I _know_ I'm not actually paralyzed. I am, though.

I push my legs off the bed with a hand and they fall heavily to the floor. I ponder briefly whether or not they'll hold me when I stand. I manage to get to my feet with help of the wardrobe next to the bed, but I crumple immediately. I put my hands out instinctively to break my fall, but the floor never comes.

I open an eye carefully, my emotions still strangely absent. My hands are hovering, about two inches up from the ground. Then, suddenly, the world whirls and I'm on my feet again. They're a little shaky but steady enough, and I walk to the door. It opens for me automatically and I step out into the hallway.

And, in just a moment, I'm no longer in the corridor. The walls around me are different, another shade of brown, the floor is different, padded, and the light is different, dim and dappled. I'm myself again, it seems, because my mind lurches into action and immediate worry. Why am I here? _Where_ is here? Wasn't I just in the hallway outside my room? I look around, confusion and anxiety beginning to gnaw my stomach.

There's a man standing in the doorway, I notice as I manage to put a finger on where I am: one of the combat training rooms. The man is dressed all in black and his face is in shadow. He doesn't move for a long time, just stands there, and I can tell he's staring at me just like I'm staring at him. I give him a polite little smile and begin to back away.

With each step I take backwards, he takes one forwards, but his legs are longer and before I've even made it to the wall, he's just a few feet away. I can see his face now, or at least some of it. He's frightful looking, a machine-man, with no hair but purple tattoos over his head like precise bruises. His jaw is shiny metal, glinting in the low light. He leers at me and says something, but I can't understand it.

I back away more, fear speeding up my breath and making my blood pound in my ears. On an off chance that I can get inside his mind and make him stop, make him go away, I reach out, but his mind simply isn't there.

He has no mouth but somehow he smiles at me and stretches a hand toward me. I trip over the edge of the mat and end up on my rear, scrambling to get up enough to push away with my legs and looking up at him in horror.

"W—what do you want?" I stammer. He just stares. I think I'm crying now. "What do you want?" I repeat, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please, don't hurt me…"

He leans down and puts his hand over my face, large fingers splayed over my forehead and cheek and thumb hooked under my jaw, his grip tightening. I grab his huge hand and try to pull it away, getting out as much of a scream as I can with my mouth pinned shut.

And then the man is gone, and the room is bright again, and I am grabbing at only air. There's a face near mine, strong but gentle hands gripping my shoulders. I struggle to focus on the face and realize with a shock that it's Kavar.

He's calling my name and looking worried. He glances over his shoulder and shouts something, I think for help, but it's so _hard_ to understand anything! With enormous effort, I manage to get myself back into control and tune into reality.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I… I don't know," I reply honestly. "There was a man… he grabbed my face."

"A man?" Kavar echoes, looking around.

"All in black," I say, "and bald. He… he had no jaw. Just a metal thing." I pause, gesturing at my face to illustrate. "And… when I tried to—to touch his mind, it wasn't there."

"What do you mean?" Kavar asks, the worry beginning to fade a little from his face.

"It was like he didn't exist," I say, and immediately fear lurches again. He didn't exist. I had imagined all of that… and yet it had been so real. I feel the need to clarify, so that Kavar doesn't think I'm crazy. "He didn't have a mind, or if he did, I couldn't find it. It just… wasn't there."

Kavar lets go of my shoulders and rocks back on his heels. I push myself up into a more comfortable sitting position and then flush as a half-familiar face appears in the doorway, looking in with a sort of cold curiosity. I turn my face away from Padawan Shan, not wanting her to see what a wreck I am.

To my further humiliation, she approaches. "Master Kavar," she says, her voice perfectly calm and her accent just as beautiful as her face. "How may I be of assistance?"

It's some comfort to me that Kavar is faintly annoyed by her presence. "I believe the situation is under control," he says pleasantly enough, "You may go."

She looks almost offended, one eyebrow arching just a bit, as she turns away and walks off. Kavar looks back at me. "Do you want to go to the medical bay?" he asks, "It would most likely be good for the Healers to have a look at you."

"No!" I exclaim, then clap a hand over my mouth. I didn't mean to yell. In fact, I didn't mean to object at all.

I can feel his surprise at my outburst, but it doesn't show on the outside. He smiles a bit and nods as the cool wash of light shock fades, "You've been in there a lot recently, haven't you? I understand if you don't want to go back again." I find myself smiling back at him. He is such a kind man, probably kinder than I really deserve. "I was just coming from teaching a lesson for some younglings when I found you here. Would you like another sparring lesson?"

I nod vigorously. He stands and reaches a hand down to help me up. I follow him as he retrieves two training swords from a footlocker at the base of a wall. "You're certain you're up for it?"

"Yeah," I say, wiping at my eyes a bit. They're beginning to get that itchy, puffy feeling they always do after I cry. It annoys me to know that I look like a blotchy-faced idiot, but there's nothing I can do about it. So, I take my sword and slip into a fighting stance.

Kavar is about to make the first strike, but then he pauses. "Has Nemo been giving you lessons?" he asks.

I look at him quizzically. "No. Why?"

"I didn't teach you that stance," he says, seeming intrigued. "How did you learn it?"

"I…" I falter, looking down at my feet. Now that I'm thinking about it, my legs feel awkwardly positioned, as though I'm a Twi'lek dancer trying to do ballet. "I don't…"

He watches me with the intense air of a farm health inspector. I fidget a bit. Suddenly, he throws his sword at me, and I find myself flying sideways through the air. I hit the mat and I roll, ending up on my feet again. I'm now holding two swords, and Kavar is still giving me that unsettling look. I look down at my two occupied hands and drop the offending swords. "I don't underst—"

"Come with me," he says, and takes my arm. He leads me through the building, but I know he's going to take me to the medical bay. Some part of me, the part that caught the swords and the part that knew the fighting stance, doesn't want to go. I push it away and tell it to shut up. _I_ want to go to the medical bay. _I_ want to know what's wrong with me.

We step through the doors and a Healer comes to greet us. My mind is going blank, no matter how hard I try to focus. They're talking, I know they are, but the words won't sink in.

And then I'm running away. I'm not aware of my feet hitting the ground as I sprint down the hallways and up a flight of steps. The walls blur and other Jedi jump out of my way. The sunlight blinds me as I clear the Enclave, still hurtling away against my will. The tall grass scratches at my legs and arms, but I still can't stop. All I can do is let my legs take me where they will.

At last, my foot catches on something hard, maybe a rock, and I go flying. Sailing through the air, I catch a quick glimpse of the Enclave as it somersaults nauseatingly overhead. I land on my back, the impact sending a huge wave of cold river water straight up. The water falls back and lands on my face, adding to the normal flow that reasserts itself after my interruption.

The spell broken, I sit up, gasping. My heart is thudding painfully in my chest, beating up against my ribcage as though it wants out. A vague part of my mind agrees with it; better to get out now that to suffer whatever other insanity might be coming. The thought is morbid and frightening, and I find myself fighting tears again.

Wiping my face of the river water, I get shakily to my feet. Shivering, I climb up the slippery bank and head for the Enclave, but that rebellious part of brain doesn't want to go. It wants to go home, and then, suddenly, I'm there. It makes absolute sense, in a dreamy sort of way. No one's in when I enter, and I'm a bit happy for that. If they were there, I'd have to explain why I was all wet. I'm also a little disappointed—I could use a good hug.

Silently, I go to my room and change out of my sopping clothes. Bundling them up and carrying them far away from my new, dry outfit, I bring them outside and hang them up to dry on the line strung between two trees. When I turn back to the house, I scream. Emelle is hanging from a branch of the tree I'm standing under. How I didn't notice her before, I don't know. There's a thick cord around her tiny neck, keeping her suspended several feet above the ground. Her chubby face is grey and her eyes are wide, staring glassily into space. I back away and come up against something cold and firm.

I spin around, horror dousing my body in liquid colder than the river, but it's just the tree trunk. I turn back to Emelle but can't look at her. I run back into the house, yelling. "Mom! Dad! Help! Mom!"

I run through the house, looking into each room. My feet thunder down the stairs to the basement, where we keep our preserves and other produce for the winter months. I come up short as I slam the light switch on and scream again. They're there, both of them, hanging from the ceiling just like Emelle. I scream, and scream again, and again, until my world is just damp duracrete floor and rusting rafters and rope and death, death, death.


	8. End

**End**

They're dead. All of them. My family, my life—all dead. I shrink into a corner and scream, while my brain turns itself inside out and the light bulbs shatter in their sockets. And suddenly there are arms around me, warm, comforting arms, and a soft voice whispering in my ear. I feel a pleasant fuzziness descend on me, settling just behind my eyes. When I open them to look around, I see a sunny plain, the grasses waving in the gentle breeze, and Dantooine's two moons overhead. A huge manta glides peacefully above the treetops.

No. No, that's not real. I'm imagining it again, aren't I? I'm in the basement. My parents are dead. They're dead—

I lash out against whoever's holding me, both with my fists and with my mind. She lets go of both holds on me, recoiling with a surprised grunt as I stab a mental dagger into her mind. I blink rapidly, clearing my still blurry eyes of the imposed illusion and stare at its creator.

She's young, maybe twenty, with darkish hair tied back in a braid. Her skin is pale, bordering on grey, and her eyes glow green in the half-light of the basement. She isn't imposing, with her deep brown Jedi robe and elfishly pointed chin, but power seeps out of her like a cold draft in winter. "Who are you?" I ask warily, wiping tears off my cheek.

She smiles kindly. "My name is Revan," she tells me. Her voice is beautiful, like twanii song. "Are you Hara?"

I nod, chewing my bottom lip unconsciously. I'm calm, strangely enough. I wonder briefly if she took away my fear and grief. "Did you do it?" I ask.

She glances over her shoulder at my parents. "No," she replies simply. I feel her honesty just like I feel her power.

"Do you know who did?" I ask.

"Yes," she replies, just as simply. I watch her, waiting for her to tell me. She doesn't. Instead, she stands and pulls me to my feet gently, with her mind. She steadies me when my legs wobble beneath me, takes my hand, and leads my out of the basement. Upstairs, there is a bald man sitting in my living room. He's young and handsome, with purple tattoos on his head. He smiles kindly at me and I smile back. He's the man from my nightmare, but I know that was a different him, from a different time. I just know.

"Hara," Revan says, "This is Malak, my friend."

"Hello," I say agreeably, shaking his hand. "Did you kill them?"

He, unlike Revan, seems to be human, or at least have human vulnerability. He looks unsettled. "No. Aren't you—"

Revan's hand twitches and he cuts himself off. I glance between them, head tilted to one side. She hadn't used any sort of Force power on him, but he seems to be tuned into her wishes, or perhaps they share their thoughts.

Something snaps in my mind and I'm myself again. I collapse to the floor, shaking violently and crying. "Dead—dead—all—who?" I look around, muddled and scared. There are two people in my living room, two strangers. One, a kind-looking young man, the other a grey woman with a cold smile. "Who are y—"

And the world adjusts itself. I stand easily and chuckle. "Clumsy me," I murmur in a singsong voice, smiling, "Always falling down."

Malak stares at me, unsettled confusion scrawled across his open features. Revan smiles. "Are you feeling better?"

"Oh yes," I nod, "Much better." I look around the room. "Let's go outside. The air in here is so stale."

Revan and Malak follow as I step out into the sunlight. The twittering of birds draws my attention to the clothesline tree, where several shanas have settled on Emelle's shoulders, pecking at her deathly porcelain skin. I shield my eyes from the sun and observe the scene with satisfied pride. Memories float by, of a set of terrified blue eyes, childish screaming, innocent hands flailing and plump legs kicking as larger, determined hands squeeze a fragile throat.

I struggle to the surface of my own mind and stare at the horror before me. "I did—it was me—" I twist around to see the two strangers. "_You_—you _made_ me!"

Revan looks miffed, as though I had insulted her drawing or something equally trivial. "Me? No, of course not. I only suggested it. You did it."

"I wouldn't—" I sob, "I would never kill—!"

"Oh, but you would." Her smile is predatory. I slip away from myself again, and she gazes at me kindly, like a proud mother. "You and your wonderful new midichlorians. Come with me, Hara. Together, we will be unstoppable. Nothing can stand up to your power combined with mine."

"I know," I say. "But I don't understand. Why am I me? It was so dark before, so limited. Why has it cleared?"

Revan smiles again, as though she's been waiting for a long time to say what she will say. "The idiot boy who crashed his speeder into you gave you a blood transfusion." I nod; I know that. "His midichlorians were transferred to you via his blood. The Healers at the Enclave thought those midichlorians would die off since your body isn't meant to have them. Of course, they were wrong. What Malak and I have determined is that the midichlorians multiplied out of control—your body's lack of adaptation for them gave them total freedom." She pauses briefly. She's evaluating whether saying what she'll say next will set me off again and bring my weak self back. "I tested your blood when we first met. The midichlorian count was impossibly high; far above the natural limit. Your cells are more than forty percent midichlorian."

"I cannot survive that," I say.

"No," she agrees, "but you will live for some time yet. Your powers will continue to increase. Come with me to the Enclave, we will start there."

I nod and follow her to the landspeeder parked nearby. My mind twists and the grass rushes up at me. "No! You made me! I couldn't—! I could never—!" My fists punch at the ground and tears wet the dirt. Already, I can feel myself falling away again and I scramble to stay at the surface. The other me is cold and dark. I'm scared of what she might do, together with that horrible grey woman.

I fall, clawing and yelling, back into the depths of my mind, and _she_ returns. She stands and slips into the speeder next to Revan. Malak settles uneasily into the back, and they soar away. Revan is a genius on the controls, and the Enclave appears in seconds. They glide to a stop and step out, heading immediately through the doors.

Inside, Revan looks at her. "We will go first to the medical bay. They may have medicines that will prolong your life."

"And then we will take a ship?" she asks.

"Yes," Revan nods, "mine is small and slow. We'll take a better ship and we will rendezvous with my fleet."

She smiles. "Let's go."

The medical bay looms large and familiar just a little ways down the hallway. I twist away from the group and try to run ahead, warn the Healers to get out before they come, but _she_ returns as the doors open. An old Healer looks up, surprised for a brief moment before she pinches off an artery in his brain and he crumbles. Revan and Malak catch up to her and Revan makes short work of going through the cabinets. She comes back empty handed, and the cold being controlling me is almost disappointed.

As they leave the medical bay, Revan pauses for a moment and reaches into her robes. She produces a coppery mask and puts it over her face, turning her into a faceless shadow. They start off for the landing pad where there is a ship, large and imposing as it gleams in the sunlight.

Something tweaks the edge of my consciousness. A boy is running toward us—Dennel. She cocks her head to one side and watches him approach.

He pulls up, short of breath. "Hara, Kavar wants—" He pauses as he catches sight of Revan, a tall figure draped gracefully in black. Fear rolls off him.

_She_ smiles softly and reaches toward him. "Poor child… come here." He stares at her, terrified. She rotates her arms sharply to the right and his neck snaps.

I break through and scream. "Dennel!" Sobbing again, I kneel beside him and try to find a pulse, but his neck is twisted and deformed. "No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't want—"

She straightens and turns back to Revan. "Where will we go?"

"Anywhere," she replies warmly. "Everywhere. We will be gods, the Force as our servant. Our power will be immeasurable. You know I'm right. Come with me, Hara." Her voice is hypnotic and soothing. _She_ smiles.

"No!" I shriek, "Murderer!"

"You killed them all, Hara," she replies, tone as hard and smooth as steel. "You know it. You know why. You know what's happened to you. That boy's midichlorians are taking over your brain. You know that. You _wanted_ that." She gives me a poisoned smile and spreads her arms wide. "This is what you wanted."

"No!"

I launch myself at her as grief, fear, and shock compact into rage. I soar like a bird for brief moments that stretch, longer and longer. She raises a hand with unnatural speed and the world stops. The birds stop chirping happily on the rooftop. The sun stops glittering on the ship. The voices in the distance stop shouting. I stop. Everything stops.

Oh…

No, I don't want to die.

My mind falls apart into the white that remains.


End file.
